


unafraid of toil

by EssayOfThoughts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Hogwarts House Sorting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cooking, Gen, Hogwarts First Year, Hufflepuff Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: For a long moment there was silence as the Hat decided. Gryffindor, of course, was most everyone’s hope, just like his parents, but some feared (others hoped) he’d go to Slytherin - he must have some power to have defeated Voldemort as a baby. Of course, power did not necessarily mean ambition - he could just as easily seek to understand it in Ravenclaw-Which was the point in everyone’s wondering when the Hat opened its mouth wide and cried out:“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Comments: 44
Kudos: 302
Collections: Alternate Universe Exchange 2020, ariana's hp fic collection





	unafraid of toil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rthstewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/gifts).



> At some point, I'd love to write more of this. If you're interested, giftee, let me know.

Harry Potter sat down. The Hat was set on his head.

And for a long moment there was silence as the Hat decided. Gryffindor, of course, was most everyone’s hope, just like his parents, but some feared (others hoped) he’d go to Slytherin - he must have  _ some _ power to have defeated Voldemort as a baby. Of course, power did not necessarily mean ambition - he could just as easily seek to understand it in Ravenclaw-

Which was the point in everyone’s wondering when the Hat opened its mouth wide and cried out:

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

* * *

Ron said nothing as he took a seat beside Harry. Their whole table applauded but the redheads at the Gryffindor table seemed almost confused before the eldest elbowed the twins into clapping - Percy, Fred and George, Harry remembered.

“That’s our brother!” one of the twins yelled across the space. “You take care of him for us, Ced, or there’ll be hell to pay!”

A ways up the table, an older boy shook his head but gave a thumbs up. Harry didn’t miss Ron’s half-wistful glance at his brothers and gently nudged him.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “It’s nice to have a friend.”

* * *

Whispers followed Harry around the next day. It wasn’t so bad the night before, in Hufflepuff’s burrows, his new housemates curious but none of them that eager to pry. If anything, they just seemed happy to have him there.

The next day was no such thing. Older students whispered. Fellow first years whispered. Even the teachers at the high table seemed to watch with curious and confused expressions. Professor Dumbledore was not present.

“Is something going on?” Harry whispered to Ron over breakfast. “And why is everyone staring?”

“You’re famous,” Ron whispered back. “Remember? Everyone thought you were going to go to Gryffindor.”

It was hardly the first time Harry had failed to live up to a positive expectation. It was the first time it really hurt him, though. 

“Oh,” he said, staring back down at his plate. Suddenly his marmalade and toast didn’t seem half as appetising.

“Don’t worry,” said a new voice, an elbow weighing heavily on Harry’s shoulder. From Ron’s grunt it sounded like the speaker had done the same to him. “They’re staring at Ron too. A Weasley in Hufflepuff? You’ve set a new record Ronniekins.”

When they glanced up it was the twins, grins wide on their faces.

“Still our brother,” one of them said, ruffling Ron’s hair. 

“Anyone gives you trouble,” said the other. “Come tell us.”

“Or Percy.”

* * *

The first day of classes was… fine, surprisingly. It was the next day that caused problems.

Potions, specifically.

“Potter,” Snape said. “What’s the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“They’re the same plant, sir,” Harry replied. “And they’re  _ very _ poisonous. Will we be handling them?”

Something about the calm response seemed knock Snape off-kilter and though he asked two more questions, neither of which Harry could answer, he was-

Harry wasn’t sure. He knew what it was like when a teacher hated him immediately or at least was suspicious. Most of his primary school teachers had been like that. And… Snape, he was pretty sure, had been prepared to hate him, though why Harry hadn’t a clue. Harry had no idea if Snape hated him now.

“Snape hates Gryffindors,” Ron said. “Or- anyone who’s not Slytherin, really, but he  _ really _ hates Gryffindors according to Fred and George.”

“Everyone thought you were going to be in Gryffindor,” Susan said from Ron’s other side. “My aunt said your parents were both Gryffindors.”

Harry had heard that too, here and there. He’d wondered if his parents would be proud of him in Hufflepuff, or if they’d prefer him to be in the same house as them. He was jolted from his thoughts by Ron’s elbow, pulled back to himself by Ron’s grin.

Ron’s family has all been in Gryffindor too. None of them seem to mind him being in Hufflepuff.

Susan was watching him too, some thoughtful look on her face. “You know,” she said quietly, “If you’re wondering if your parents would be proud - I think they’d be happy you’re alive and happy if you’re happy. That’s what any parent or guardian should want for their child.”

Susan, Harry remembered from last night’s conversation, lived with her aunt after the rest of their family were killed.

* * *

It’s Cedric who showed them the way to the kitchens, pulling them aside one evening in their first week.

“Your brothers would kill me if I didn’t,” he said to Ron, his hands firm on both their shoulders. “I mean  _ actually _ kill me, bludgers and everything.”

The kitchens were huge, expansive, as big as the Great Hall just above and full of small beings Harry had never seen before. 

And it smelled of cooking. Not cooked food, done and appetising and ready to eat, but the metallic smell of meat being prepared, the slight hint of composting vegetable peelings, the smell of a myriad cheeses, of yeast making bread rise- 

Harry breathed it all in and finally felt himself  _ relax. _

“Hey,” Harry said quietly to one of the creatures, which snapped to attention in it’s tea-towel toga when he spoke. “Could I do some cooking in here? I want to make something for a friend.”

* * *

Susan’s face when he presented her with lavender-chocolate biscuits was wonderful.

* * *

After the first few weeks things eased up. Harry loved flying lessons most of all but all of the classes were interesting except for History of Magic which was  _ boring. _

“Here,” said Cedric, when they’d trooped, yawning, back to the Hufflepuff burrows. “These are copies of my notes from first year. They  _ haven’t changed. _ You’ll have an easier time remembering if you read them yourself or listen to someone else read them aloud.”

And they did. Hannah would read them aloud, or sometimes Justin (“Drama club,” he said when asked) and on one memorable occasion, Ron, who did funny voices until they all were laughing too much to pay attention.

It became a habit, those early weeks, half encouraged by Cedric and the prefects and partly by Susan exclaiming over Harry’s biscuits so much the others asked if he’d bake for them too. Even as he’d got more into baking at Privet Drive Aunt Petunia had never been this keen on him making things just because. It was strangely pleasing to be so encouraged and he started spending more time in the kitchens, kneading out frustration after Potions or baking treats for their study club. 

Which is how it came around to Halloween and Harry had made orange-and-peppermint creams for (most of) his classmates and ended up traipsing halfway around the school, Ron at his side, trying to find where Hermione Granger had gone.

“Seamus was- blunt,” whispered Neville when they asked him. “I know she can be-”  _ keen, overeager, a bit of a know it all. _ Harry and Ron had had enough classes with her to guess at what had likely been said. “But he didn’t have to-”

“She’s crying in the bathroom in the west tower,” Parvati said. “I think she wants to be left alone.”

Maybe she did. Harry knew very well what it was like to want to be left alone when upset. But he was also aware that presents made things better.

He knocked quietly on the door when they found the one which sounded like crying - the sound hitched, paused, then resumed, quietly. Harry knocked again.

“Granger?” he asked. “Are you in there?”

“Might be a ghost,” Ron whispered. “It’s almost dinner.”

Harry’s rumbling stomach was well aware.

“It’s almost the Feast,” he said next. “Neville and Parvati said Seamus upset you?”

Silence.

“Uh- can we come in? It’s kind of awkward to talk through a door.”

He heard footsteps over tiled flooring and the door was yanked open, Hermione Granger’s tear-streaked face appearing in its stead. 

“Um,” Harry said. “I made everyone treats.” He held out the bundled creams. “Well, except Malfoy.”

She snorted at that, half a laugh.

“It’s almost the Feast,” he said. “We were going to head down once we found you. Do you want to join us?”

Granger seemed about to respond when her eyes widened, her gaze rising above them and the stench hit.

* * *

Somehow, they escaped the troll without a scratch. Sprout bundled them all to Madam Pomfrey nonetheless, wrapping her thick woollen cloak around their shoulders and herding them to the Hospital Wing. 

“Thanks,” Ron said once they were all sat down and Pomfrey had checked them over. They’d been left with a tray of hot chocolate, a hint of cinnamon to the scent, just how Harry preferred and how Harry had convinced the house elves to make just for him. “With the spell. Levitation’s been causing me so much trouble.”

Granger - no, Hermione, now, Harry was pretty sure. “You drag the last syllable a bit,” she replied. “Try- remember when you first kick off in flying, that  _ oh _ as you rise up.”

_ “Oh,” _ Ron said.

Harry didn’t feel the least bit guilty for laughing.

* * *

Harry did not duel Malfoy, even when the boy goaded him unceasingly. It was a close run thing, to be fair, and he certainly  _ wanted _ to kick Malfoy’s teeth in for some of the things he said, but Su told Cedric and Cedric’s disappointed face was frankly more terrifying than Truman’s or Sprout’s. He did sneak out at Christmas, though, when one of the parcels at the foot of his bed revealed an invisibility cloak.

“Hey,” he said, sneaking into the kitchens at quarter past midnight, Ron left fast asleep back in the dorm. “I need to make some thank-you cakes. Got any recipe suggestions?”

It takes him several hours but it’s worth it, so worth it, and the elves manage to find some boxes too, and a bundle of pretty ribbons to tie the parcels up with.

“Off to bed,” Kinzie, one of the older elves, said, rapping Harry’s knuckles with a ladle. “We wills see them sent. Its is three in the morning, Mister Potter, yous should be  _ sleeping.” _

Harry let them bundle him off to bed and mostly slept through breakfast. With so few at Hogwarts over the holidays, though, no one seemed to mind, and when he slipped yawning into the kitchen Bibsy had a plate of fry-up prepared for him in a matter of moments.

“Life-saver,” he said, and then when Cara pushed a mug of tea onto the small table he’s sat at, “ _ You’re amazing.” _

It wasn’t until he was almost done eating he noticed how quiet it was, how empty of any of the decorations.

“Hey.” A few of the elves looked over, but not many. “Did no one get you any presents?”

“Presents?”

Harry knew he didn’t get presents. He knew why, too. His aunt and uncle didn’t like him.

He didn’t know how anyone could dislike the house elves, though.

“Right,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “I’m making you all some gingerbread.”

* * *

He was pretty sure it was the cooking that had landed him in Hufflepuff in the end. One day at Mrs Figg’s looking through cookbooks left out on the side seeing recipes using herbs and spices to cheer or to relax - lavender, chamomile, cardamom. And when he’d tried it, cooking for the Dursley’s, it had worked. 

Cooking made them, if not treat him  _ nicely, _ at least be somewhat  _ nicer. _ So he worked at it. He was bloody good, if he did say so himself.

As he was rolling out the gingerbread, preparing to cut it out into shapes he wondered:  _ Huh. Maybe it’ll make Snape be nicer too. _

(Snape returned to his rooms to find a small parcel of gingerbread on his desk, a note written in an eerily familiar hand attached.

_ (Merry Christmas! _ it read.  _ And a Happy New Year!) _

(Later that evening Hedwig drops by as Harry was having dinner, two thank you notes in newly recognisable hands - Hagrid’s scrawl and Molly Weasley’s rounded handwriting.  _ Thank you for the cake, _ both said.  _ It’s delicious.) _

* * *

The year was… quiet, in the end. Hagrid turned out to have somehow obtained a dragon, but between Professors Dumbledore and Kettleburn it was safely sent off to a Dragon Reserve in Wales before it set fire to anything major. The troll was safely relocated after it was knocked out. 

The only strange thing was how, towards the very end of the year, Professor Quirrell mysteriously vanished.

“It’s a curse,” said Ron at the end-of-year feast and for the first time Harry wondered if it actually was. “No Defence professor’s lasted more than a year in  _ ages, _ Mum says.”

“Cedric’s considering studying it for his NEWT Defence project,” Justin said. “Apparently curses on abstract concepts is obscure enough no one’s likely to have done it before.”

“What happened, though?” Harry asked, because even the rumour mill had proven uncommonly quiet. 

“No idea,” Ernie said. “And it’ll be something else next year, I bet.”

* * *

Harry headed back to Privet Drive with owl addresses for all of his friends and Justin’s telephone number to boot. 

And, hidden in his trunk, a cookbook filled in with the help of the house elves, full of new recipes to try.

He was pretty sure, with all of that, that summer was going to be at the very least  _ interesting. _

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to have Hermione in here more but she'd have sorted before both Harry and Ron and I couldn't think of a way to change her sorting without cause. This is only first year; if I ever end up writing more I do plan to write in more of inter-house friendships, especially Hermione with Ron and Harry - too many alternate sorting fics write out Ron, Hermione or both and I'm not keen on doing so myself. Likewise if I do continue this, there will definitely be Things Said about the house elves - more than Harry's objection to their not receiving Christmas presents.
> 
> Also, if you enjoyed this alternate sorting, I've also written Draco in Gryffindor before in [A Snake Of Red And Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395078).
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me over on [Tumblr](http://essayofthoughts.tumblr.com/) or leave a comment below!


End file.
